Stalemate
by Stardust585
Summary: Stella gets a prestigious offer to work in the FBI Crime Lab just as a gruesome cold case unravels before the CSIs. What will she decide? What will Mac do? How will the case affect them? One thing's sure - they're headed for big changes. SM/team post-s.6
1. Clouds On The Horizon

**Stalemate**

**Summary: **Stella gets a lucrative and prestigious offer to work in the FBI Crime Lab in Virginia just as a gruesome cold case unravels before the CSIs. What will she decide? Will Mac have a say in it? Will he want to? What will the case bring them? SM/team post-s.6

**Disclaimer:**I don't own anything. This is only a fan fiction story. CSI:NY and all the characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. I'm just a fangirl who can't resist playing with their wonderful creations:-)

**A/N: **The story starts off a couple of weeks after the episode 6.23 'Vacation Getaway' and there will be some spoilers from this eppy and the whole of season 6.

**A/N2:** With this new story, my hiatus is officially over. I'm dreadfully sorry for my long silence but RL was busier than ever and the muse needed some battery-recharging;-) I'd like to thank you for your patience and I hope this will compensate at least to a small degree the long wait! I'm kinda nervous - my first post after quite some time, but tried to do my best and hope you'll like it!

**For your enjoyment only;-)**

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**Chapter 1 – ****Clouds On The Horizon**

When the first drops of rain came down on the sprawling city of New York, Stella Bonasera looked up from her papers into the dimness outside her office and felt a shiver run along her spine as heaven's tears began beating against the huge glass walls she was safely cooped up behind. She didn't want to be safe, though. She pushed herself out of her chair and came to stand before the glass just as a blue four-fingered hand of a luminous lightning grasped at the afternoon Manhattan skyline.

Hugging herself, she chanced a sideways glance back towards her desk as if to make sure the letter was still there. It was. Then her glance wandered through the glass walls towards her partner's office to check if he was in. He was but he didn't look up, engrossed in some papers as always. Always. She was tired with always. Always waiting, always being there to pick up the pieces and always waiting, hoping, believing...in something that never came. And she doubted ever would. Maybe life, destiny, God or whatever force it was that drove the universe, was giving her a way out? A way to protect herself and save herself from further torment? She shook her head to fight off the doubts that had been assaulting her heart and mind like hungry harpies ever since she read the letter. But it wasn't enough.

Her lips a thin line, Stella grabbed her cloak and headed for the elevator.

"Stella?" came a querying voice from behind but she didn't heed it. "I've got the results you asked for."

Only when she turned around in the elevator to push the right button did she give Hawkes a sideways look.

"Not now, Sheldon," she said curtly and the door closed behind her. She reached for her cell and turned the sound off. She didn't want to be disturbed.

When the elevator reached its destination, Stella stepped out into the ground floor lobby. In a couple of swift steps she found herself at the exit doors. One of the guards ran up to her offering her an umbrella but she just waved him off wanting to get out as fast as possible. One last step, one last breath and there she was.

The hard-driving June rain immediately slapped against her coat, face and hair as if it wanted to physically turn her away. It was coming down in column after column, each drenching her more than the previous one. She took a moment to relish the feel of cold drops on her skin and made her way down the steps. She stepped over the river that began to rush wildly next to the curb and continued down the street. By the time she got to the East River pier, she was completely soaked, her hair hanging limply in long waves along her face and her mascara smudged under her eyes. A shiver run down her spine as a rivulet of water made its way behind her collar and down her back.

She came to stand on the pier beneath the unbound leaden skies and watched the heavy rain fall from the mournfully grey clouds. Her skin shivering with an icy chill, she propped herself on the barrier and looked out into the choppy dark blue waters of the river and breathed in full lungs of the cold breeze coming from the ocean. She looked at the whirls and foamy waves, but her mind was wandering elsewhere.

She suddenly felt her phone vibrate and automatically took it out of her pocket. Rain devoured the instrument immediately, covering it in a cocoon of humid mist. Stella looked at the caller ID and the picture displayed above it.

Mac.

As she looked at his miniature face staring at her from her phone, a big wet drop landed on the screen and slowly made its way over Mac's face. Stella didn't know if it was the rain or her tear. She shook her head with a firm expression and put the phone back into her pocket. As she turned her gaze back towards the river the driving drops advanced onto her face again and camouflaged the treacherous tears. She looked out into the water, her mind and soul in turmoil.

**XxXxXxX**

Mac pushed the redial button but when he got Stella's voice mail again, he sighed looking in frustration at his partner's picture on the phone display.

"And she didn't tell you where she was going?" he asked Sheldon who had come in with the results he was supposed to give to Stella.

"No," Sheldon shook his head. "But something was wrong, Mac," he added, concern in his voice.

Mac sighed and rubbed his forehead. "All right. Go back to work, Sheldon, I'll take care of this."

Stella was a big girl and Mac would never question her judgement or independence but if Sheldon thought something was off then he should at least check. Especially as she had come in about an hour ago to tell him she would be swamped in her office with backlog reports for the next couple of hours. She wouldn't just up and leave without a word. Unless it was something serious. In which case, as her boss and friend, he wanted to know about it. He knew how Stella liked to do everything on her own and her way and he respected that but ever since he had almost lost her in Greece last year and again when she had almost drowned chasing Marina Garito's killer only two months ago, he had become much more protective of her. He wouldn't dare to let her know because he knew he would get a right tongue-lashing but he couldn't help what he felt inside. So while a year ago he would have probably ignored this sudden absence, now he found himself walking into Stella's office with worry twisting his stomach into a tight knot as he took in her working space.

She had been working on the papers sure enough but his detective eye quickly caught the uncapped pen thrown over the papers as if in a hurry and one letter thrown over all the other papers. The FBI logo embossed at the top caught his attention. He took the letter and as he read, his frown began to deepen.

_Dear Miss Bonasera,_

_we have been following your outstanding path of career at the N__ew York Crime Laboratory with great interest. You have proven yourself to be an excellent NYPD officer and an eminent scientist. Your impeccable line of duty, exceptional skills and integrity were brought to our attention in the widely covered New York Compass Killer case as well as Marina Garito's murder and other numerous crimes you have successfully investigated. _

_H__ence, we have the pleasure to inform you that you have been shortlisted from 500 best CSI officers from the whole of United States for the position of Forensic Program Manager of our newest investigation laboratory in Virginia. _

_An officer from the FBI Personnel Office shall be visiting the New York Crime Lab this month to observe the work environment and procedures __in the said facility as a part of your final evaluation, which may result in your possible admission. Your supervising officer shall be duly informed._

_Please accept our congratulations for your outstanding service__ and achievements. We hope to meet you in person in the nearest future._

_Best wishes,_

_xxx_

After reading the last word, Mac continued to stare at the letter though he didn't really see it. Stella was an excellent detective and a talented CSI and she had had her share of spectacular cases, which he never failed to praise in his quarterly reports for the brass recommending her for promotion but he had no idea this would go this far. Obviously his lab had found itself on the FBI radar after they had admitted Haylen Becall six months ago and this was the result. FBI got wind of the fantastic team he had build here and was now trying to lure out his best people. The worst part of it was he could do nothing about it. A job at the FBI and especially FBI Forensic Manager was a big deal and one of the most coveted positions in the CSI world. He himself had turned it down on more than one occasion but he had his personal reasons. That said, he would never advise such a decision to any of his workers. You didn't say no to the FBI. This was an honour for Stella and for the entire lab and as her boss and her friend he should support her in this. That was the right thing to do. Then why did it feel like someone had torn a hole inside of him with an exceptionally blunt knife? Was he a bad friend that he wasn't exactly thrilled at this news?

He stood in his best friend's office in a silent stupor as the ramifications of this single sheet of paper he was holding in his hand slowly began to sink in. It was only when the steady murmur of rain drops against the glass wall in front of him intensified to a heavy drumming did he look up just as a white lightning swept through the sky followed by the low rumble of a thunder.

He left the letter where he had found it and went back to his office with one purpose on his mind. He reached for the neat stack of mail from morning waiting for him to read. He leafed through it until he found it. An envelope with the FBI logo on it.

He sat down heavily in his chair, the envelope left unopened. He tried to call her again but the only sound of her he heard was the message she had recorded on her voicemail. This time he heard it out till the end.

_You've finally lost her, _his treacherous mind whispered when he put the phone down.

He turned his chair around and stared out the window into the dimness of the waging storm. Why did he get the feeling that while this storm was ending, there were already new storm clouds gathering on the horizon? And while these didn't involve forces of nature, they involved forces as powerful – human emotions, passions and fears.

"I never really had her to lose in the first place," he said with an anger that surprised him into the emptiness of his office and his heart.

**XxXxXxX**

Not far away from where Stella Bonasera was standing, another person was moving through the rain in a state of deep turmoil. The man was soaked to the bone when he finally stumbled into the five-oh precinct in Lower Manhattan. He came to the reception desk and leaned onto it as if he had suddenly lost all strength and the wooden bar was all that was keeping him upright.

"I..." he tried but his clattering teeth made him stutter. "I need tttto speak to dddetective Ssss...Stella Bonasssera," he finally managed.

The officer on duty looked at him suspiciously.

"May I see some ID, please?" he asked.

The man looked at him with anger sparking in his eyes. "I need to speak to detective. Stella. Bonasera. Now," he said again clutching the officer at his shirt.

"Sir, I have to ask you to back down and put your hands where I can see them," the officer said warily shaking the man's hands off, his own hands wandering towards his gun.

"What's the matter here, Stu?" came a friendly voice from the side and a second officer, this one plainclothes, came to stand beside the one called Stu with a frown building on his face as he saw the state the man was in.

"This guy's getting grabby, Don," Stu said, his gaze still levelled at the stranger. "And I don't mean in fun way," he added snarkily. "I was thinking of putting him in..."

"I just want to see detective Stella Bonasera!" the man shouted.

"Easy there," Don said coming slowly towards the man, his interest piqued upon hearing Stella's name. "I'm a friend of hers," he added gently seeing the man was becoming more unbalanced with his every word and slow movement towards him. "I'll tell her you're here but you need to calm down, sir."

"No!" the man mouthed angrily, pushing his shaking hands through his already wet and dishevelled hair. "I need to see her now!" and with that he pounced at Flack with clenched fists.

Don was prepared, though, and before Stu or any other officer could get involved, he had the man pressed to the floor with his knee digging into the man's back. To Flack's amazement, he didn't struggle at all but became limp the moment Don touched him. He saw his body was shaken by sobs.

"I need to see..." he managed in between gasps.

"Yeah, yeah, we heard you," Flack cut him off impatiently. "We may be cops but we're not hearing-impaired."

The man only gurgled in reply.

"Why do you need to see detective Bonasera?"

"She put an innocent man in jail and now he's dead because of her!" the man spat angrily.

Flack looked at him with furrowed eyebrows. Maybe he really did need to see Stella. And if this guy was telling the truth, so did he.

tbc.

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**A/N: **So, how did you like this? Interested enough to read more? Do let me know! I'm dying to know what you think about this;-)

**A/N2: **If you haven't been to my profile and you're interested, I've made my first ever Smacked fanvid to this story – it's to the song 'Stalemate' by Ben's Brother that originally inspired this story and it's great. Here's the URL (paste it in the address bar removing the asterisks, of course;): www*.*youtube*.*com*/*watch?v=k8GfBPHLgSg. I hope you'll like it:)

**A/N3:** My other story 'Step by Step' will update at the beginning of the next week.


	2. It Never Rains, It Pours

**Stalemate**

**Summary****:** Stella gets a lucrative and prestigious offer to work in the FBI Crime Lab in Virginia just as a gruesome cold case unravels before the CSIs. What will she decide? Will Mac have a say in it? Will he want to? What will the case bring them? SM/team post-s.6

**Disclaimer****:** I don't own anything. This is only a fan fiction story. CSI:NY and all the characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. I'm just a fangirl who can't resist playing with their wonderful creations:-)

**A/N: Sorry this took a while to update**** but RL put a damper on things as usual! **

**Enjoy:) **

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**Chapter 2**** – It Never Rains, It Pours**

The light ding resounded through the small interior of the elevator to reach Stella's disturbed mind and reverberate through it like a sobering call to shove all the worry and heartache deep down and put her mask back on. For his sake, the sake of the whole team but above all for her own.

She knew this game of pretence was only a band aid obscuring the symptoms but doing nothing to cure the actual cause or alleviate the pain ripping through her in nauseating waves. But plastering that smile and holding on to the tough-as-nails-Stella exterior allowed her to carry on day after day after day. It was the best protection she had come up with. The only one that allowed her to keep her integrity. And sanity, for that matter.

When she had the mask on, it almost seemed like it was the real thing. Like she had no worries in her life apart from the dreadful pile of paperwork on her desk. If there was one thing her harsh childhood had taught her, it was that keeping your heart on your sleeve ended in having it torn away from that sleeve, thrown to the ground and stomped upon by booted feet. She didn't need any more of that than she had already endured. Not from him, not from anyone. So she plastered her smile on.

The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh and she took a deep breath, moving errant wet curls away from her face. First step out, then another. With each one her gait became less shaky and her breathing steadier. She lowered her head ever so slightly trying not to catch anyone's gaze before she managed to get to her office. She didn't want anyone to see her before she was back to her usual calm, collected and in-charge-of-every-situation self. Luck wasn't on her side, though.

Like he always seemed to have, Mac was standing in her path like a guardian angel, his eyes only for her as he scrutinized her features with that tender concern that always made her heart skip a beat. This time it also made her want to turn on her heel and run away. It hurt to know there was only friendship behind that concern. Deep and devoted, but still only friendship. And she was done convincing herself that it was enough for her. She went into her office without offering him a single glance. She wasn't sure she'd able to keep her composure.

Mac furrowed his eyebrows when he saw Stella walk out of the elevator. She was all wet, her hair dripping and her coat drenched. To his amazement, Mac realized she must have been outside. He watched her with growing concern as she moved forward into the harsh corridor lights, which illuminated the lines of worry and exhaustion that seemed to draw her face down. Her expression made him instantly dismiss the task he was busy with, the technician he was currently talking to and, frankly, the whole world.

Though she tried to hide it, he could spot the mist over her eyes and the determined set of her mouth as if she was doing everything in her power to stop herself from crying. He was instantly reminded that underneath that steely and tough exterior there beat a passionate, tender heart that was ever so vulnerable and susceptible to pain. He felt an instant rush of anger towards anyone who would get her into such a state. He knew there weren't many people who could.

Stella had a lot of rough edges, no doubt about that, but there was so much more to her if you only managed to get past that. People rarely saw through the mask, though. They mistook her no-nonsense attitude for coldness and her determination to solve the case for indifference. They couldn't be more wrong, he thought looking at this tough woman who wasn't steel, this rock who wasn't stone.

Suddenly he saw her body shaken by a shiver. His thoughts ran back to the FBI letter as he waved the technician that was still talking to him off and turned towards Stella. She didn't offer him a single glance and steered away from him, ducking into her office before he managed to utter a single word. He didn't take the cue and followed her, stopping in her door.

"I called you," he said softly so as not to sound accusatory in any way. He hovered on her threshold, not going in entirely.

Stella took a deep breath before turning around to face him. When she finally did, she wished she hadn't. She only stole a fleeting gaze of him in the corridor but now when he was standing but a few feet away, she already felt overpowered and weak. He had discarded his suit jacket somewhere and was wearing only a button up shirt, the light blue one that brought out the sapphire sparks in his eyes. The two top buttons were undone as always and his sleeves were rolled up indicating he was hard at work on something and giving her a glimpse of his strong forearms. _Damn it_, she cursed inwardly. No man should ever have such an effect on her.

"Sorry," she said uneasily still avoiding his gaze, and he immediately knew something was very much off. "Something I had to take care of."

"You all right?" he asked stepping inside and thus venturing to take that literal and metaphorical step into her world whether she liked it or not. Privacy was one thing but concern over her well-being trampled it every time in his book.

"I'm fine," she brushed his apparent concern off and turned away from him to shake out of her wet coat, upon which she immediately frowned. Her hair was still wet and the sensation of the moist strands falling and sticking to her nape and scalp made her cringe.

"You don't seem fine," he pressed not heeding her dismissive stance and the edge her voice had taken. Usually he'd let it go at this point. Not this time, though. Maybe it was the letter and the dread of losing her that had lodged itself in his heart ever since he saw it, or maybe it was the look on her face when she had exited the elevator that made him so insistent on getting the truth from her this time. Maybe it was something different altogether.

"I see two possibilities," he said matter-of-factly pointing at her wet clothes. "you showered in the locker-room with your clothes on or you went outside into a full-blown storm without as much as an umbrella. Either way, something _isn't_ fine, Stella."

She looked up at him, her mouth a hard line.

"Mac, I'm tired, I have paperwork from here to the moon and the Grey case is stuck. I wanted to get some fresh air," she said without inflection sitting herself down.

"Did you also want to get pneumonia?" he quirked an eyebrow knowing at that moment he wouldn't glean a thing from her. But if she wouldn't tell him what was bothering her then the least he could was try to make her smile.

She rolled her eyes though he could spot her mouth crease slightly upwards.

"No, but I wouldn't mind getting a _rain check_ for this conversation," she said pointedly. "I've got work."

Usually she found it touching when Mac was this protective of her but this time she was irked more than anything. It seemed everything kind he did and said only made the pain worse, driving the realisation of what she would never have further in. It felt like rubbing salt into an open wound.

By the fleeting look of surprised hurt that crossed over his face like a shadow, she knew she had driven her point home and got what she wanted. Driving him away was the only way to free herself. It was the only logical step if she wanted to salvage her mind and soul. Still, logics said nothing about how much pain it would entail.

"Ok," he said in a neutral voice and made for the door. "I won't keep you from your work, then."

She looked after him and cursed herself inwardly. God, why did this have to be so hard?

"Mac, wait," she called after him and he stopped mid-step. "I'm sorry," she said remorsefully circling her desk and standing before him. He saw her lace her long fingers together in that characteristic way that told him that she was indeed nervous and frustrated. "I didn't mean to snap," she gave him a tight smile.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew that part of her behaviour must be because of the letter from the FBI but he decided that for now it was her call and he wouldn't mention it first. But he was almost sure there was something more. One particular thing above all else. There was so much going on lately that they hadn't had time to talk about it, one he knew lay heavy on them both and wouldn't just go away. Maybe now was the time.

"I know," he sighed, the corners of his lips twitching slightly upwards. "I also know you're still on edge about Danny and Lindsay, Stell," he added seriously.

She looked up at him with amazement. They had both been avoiding the subject for the last week, ever since the final showdown with Casey, though she could see it was eating away at him just as it was at her. But to see him mention it on his own was unexpected to say the least.

"I know I am," he continued with a sigh. "They're my family, too."

"It's just that..." she paused trying to find the right words. "I'm so angry because not only Danny and Lindsay were the targets but also Lucy. She's just a small innocent child, Mac! Whenever I think of the danger she was in because we failed to catch Casey on time...because I didn't do my job well enough...I could have thought of assigning them protection...or extending the search..." she stopped noticing the smile playing on Mac's lips. "What?"

"I seem to remember a similar conversation we had a year ago," he said. "I remember what you told me then and I'm going to say the same thing to you now. My, me, I, Stell."

She smiled slightly in recognition.

"Something else you told me then stands true today more than ever. You're not in this alone," he reached out and gently put his hand over her shoulder in a reassuring gesture. The touch of his fingers on the skin over her collarbone sent hopeless shivers through her body. "I beat myself up with the same questions, Stell. Why didn't I think of this or that? Why didn't I foresee that? Why weren't we more careful? If someone's guilty, it's me. I'm your boss and responsible for all of you. And I failed you."

"Mac, no one could have predicted the doings of a madman like Casey," Stella said with force to emphasize her point detecting the anguish in his voice he tried to conceal. She knew Mac well enough to know he had lost more than one night's sleep over this supposed failure of his. Just as she had. They both expected a lot from others but they expected even more from themselves.

And if they failed those expectations, they were their own harshest judge, jury and executor.

She now saw clearly they had both been putting themselves through a mental and emotional wringer for the very same reasons, neither of them really at fault. True, they were senior officers and supervisors but they were not psychic. There was no way of knowing Casey had survived that fall, let alone covered a hundred miles, got back to NY, obtained a gun, sneaked into the Messers' apartment and threatened Lucy. If it hadn't been for Lindsay's guts and her marksmanship, who would have known what would come to pass. It all seemed like a screenplay of a cheap thriller rather than something that could ever really happen. But it did. And it affected them all. Some more than others.

"Danny's still adamant about leaving the force?" Stella asked tightly.

Mac ran a tired hand over his face. "No change. He hasn't filed in an official resignation yet but he's asked for an extended unpaid leave," he sighed. "Lindsay's trying to talk some sense into him and we all know how persuasive she can be," he smiled slightly. "So I still hope he'll come around. Though honestly, I can't blame him for having second thoughts. He's been through an awful lot this year, all of it because of the job," he looked at her with worry. "Have you spoken to him yet?"

"I..." she stuttered.

She could perfectly understand Danny's reasons and frankly, if she were in his situation, she didn't know how she would behave. First the shooting that put him in a wheelchair and through very painful and slow rehabilitation and now having his family at the mercy of a madman with a fixation on him when all he did was show him kindness and understanding. All of it because he was a cop. He had just started a family and she knew how happy he was so however much she wanted him to stay, she understood why he wouldn't want to after all that had happened. Besides, she would be a complete hypocrite trying to talk Danny out of leaving the lab when she herself was seriously considering it. But she couldn't tell that to Mac. Not now. She didn't have the heart to tell him she was even taking the FBI offer seriously, let alone seriously pondering leaving.

"I don't know what to say to him," she finally said in frustration. "His little daughter, his wife and he himself were attacked and threatened and I can't imagine what he's going through, Mac. Anything that comes to my mind just sounds lame and trite."

He sighed. "I know. But the lab can't lose him." He looked at her. "I can't lose another friend."

Stella looked at him in shock. There was such resignation and finality in his voice that it took her breath away for a moment. Did he already know about the FBI offer or was he referring to someone else?

"Mac, I..."

At that moment she was interrupted by her phone. "Sorry," she frowned and answered it.

She listened to Flack with growing confusion and worry. "All right, we'll be down there in a sec." She put down the phone and looked at Mac, who had been watching the play of emotions on her face during the conversation with growing concern.

"That was Flack. Apparently I've put an innocent man behind bars and now he's dead."

Mac's eyebrows rode up almost to his hairline. "And Don knows that how?"

"He doesn't." She stood up and reached into her drawer for an elastic band. She caught her hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck in an all-business manner. "But he's got a man in interrogation that does," she looked at him, her soul and mind full of misgiving.

**XxXxXxX**

Nonplussed, Flack and Mac both looked back from the one-way mirror at Stella, whose brow was creased in an attempt to recognize the man sitting alone in the dim of the interrogation room.

"His name is Basil St. John. A renowned entomologist, author of several books, single, no family. Was out of the country for the last six months on a scientific expedition in the Maluku Islands in Indonesia," Don read with an air of incredulous disbelief from his notebook.

"And we have his data how?" Stella asked with furrowed eyebrows. "Don't tell me that when he's not investigating bugs in the Pacific he shop-lifts or deals drugs."

Flack smirked. "That would have been much more fun," he quipped. "But unfortunately it's not the case. The expedition was government-financed and the participants had to submit their finger-prints and DNA profiles," he explained. "Which also allows me to tell you that our guy's as clean as whistle, not even a parking ticket. Not that they would have that many cars in the Sepuku Islands."

"Maluku," Mac corrected absent-mindedly scrutinizing the man on the other side of the mirror with renewed interest. "Also known as the Spice Islands. That expedition caused quite a stir in the scientific world. An international group of biologists, ichthyologists, entomologists and mycologists has found several new species, which turned out to be a new link in the evolution of insects. Among them is a rhinoceros beetle indigenous to the archipelago named _Xylotrupes basilus_ after the man who discovered it...that man over there."

Stella and Flack both stared at him in a stunned silence.

"Am I supposed to understand anything you've said just now?" Flack asked with a raised eyebrow.

Although impressed, which wasn't an easy feat, Stella couldn't help herself from teasing him, too.

"So you're a CSI by day and a vigilante entomologist by night?" She put her hands on her hips and eyed him with an expectantly raised eyebrow and a mischievous smile.

Mac shot her a half-embarrassed, half-exasperated look. Then he cracked a smile seeing her playful expression.

"I try to keep my horizons wide," he said with a modest shrug and Stella felt the urge to swat him over the head. He pretended not to notice and turned to Flack. "So, why are we here, Don?"

"The bug guy barged into the precinct an hour ago demanding to see Stella and spouting some gibberish about you putting someone innocent behind bars," he motioned at Stella. "When the officer on duty demanded an ID, he blew a fuse. Let's just say he picked the wrong place for it," he finished snidely indicating Basil's cuffed and incarcerated state. "You really have no idea what he's talking about, Stell?"

"None," she shook her head. "I'm certain I don't know him and the name doesn't ring a bell, either. Maybe I should read more entomological magazines," she added innocently.

Don managed to keep a straight face as Mac shot her a mock reproachful look. Rarely did he put himself on the line like that and she wasn't going to let him off the hook this easy. Plus, she welcomed every opportunity to take her mind off the grim thoughts that haunted her.

"Did he say anything else?" Mac queried.

"He said the investigation – he wouldn't give me any specifics – took place a year ago and he's got evidence that we convicted the wrong man."

"A year ago?" Stella furrowed her eyebrows. "If he had pertinent evidence why didn't he come forward earlier?"

"He was at a far-off archipelago on the other side of the world for the last six months," Mac said. "He was probably out of touch with civilization for the time that he was there. Especially when they were onto something ground-breaking. Scientists won't eat, sleep, let alone remember the outside world in such situations."

"Tell me something I don't know," Don said snidely looking pointedly at both him and Stella. "So sleep-depravation and eating disorder is an occupational hazard? And I thought it was just you two."

Stella rolled her eyes at him. "This still doesn't explain the six months before that," she said matter-of-factly.

"Maybe he was scared or intimidated," Don suggested.

"Or he didn't realize evidence was evidence until now," Mac added.

"There's only one way to find out," Stella looked at them both meaningfully and turned towards the door. She was about to go out when Don's voice stopped her.

"What if it's just a ruse?"

"A ruse, Don? What would be the point?" she asked incredulously. "He's an entomologist not an assassin."

"How about to shoot you because besides being an entomologist he's a violent psycho stuck on you?"

"Another one?" she asked with a hint of a mischievous smile to lighten the sombre mood but they didn't smile back.

"This is no joking matter, Stella." Don looked at her seriously. "He's perfectly capable of violence. He assaulted me in the hall."

"And you've disabled him in a matter of seconds," she enunciated putting her hands on her hips. "I'm a trained and armed officer just as you. What makes you think I couldn't tackle him just as easy?" she asked irately.

When neither of them responded, she pursed her lips in growing frustration.

"Oh, come on. He's in a closed and secure room. He's at a police precinct literally surrounded by dozens of cops. What's he going to do? Stare me to death?"

"Casey also seemed harmless," Don said quietly.

Stella sighed. This again. She had had to struggle with this new overprotectiveness from both Flack and Mac for the last couple of weeks. While she knew where it stemmed from and understood their reasons, it didn't make it any less annoying.

Their team had gone through a lot in the past year – Jess' death, the shooting, Danny in a wheelchair, Sheldon trapped in that jail and to top it all off, the Shane Casey ordeal, which hit them all hard and left them on edge. With men who cared so much and lost so much as Mac and lately Don, some things tended to grow out of proportion, like their protective instincts, when people they cared about got in harm's way. So she tried not to treat this personally and treat their behaviour with understanding. She knew they respected her as a cop and CSI and trusted her skills as much as their own. Still, she could interrogate a witness on her own, for God's sake. It wasn't like she was going to tackle a sumo wrestler bare-handed.

"Stella..."

"This discussion is over, Flack," she said definitively, just barely keeping her anger in check. Her eyes met Mac's for a flash. She wondered why he had stayed so strangely silent during the whole exchange. When she went out, it became obvious. Figuring correctly that arguing with her was futile, he would just go in with her. Without any discussion. He was wrong.

She turned around and looked at him defiantly.

"You also think I can't handle a cuffed and defenceless witness?"

"You're not going in there alone," he said calmly not rising to the bait.

She rolled her eyes. "Mac, haven't you heard a word of what I've just told Flack? Frankly, this is starting to become annoying. And it's demeaning."

He looked at her with a frown knowing she was perfectly right to get pissed like this. Still, he preferred her to be pissed at him and safe rather than in any kind of danger. He had had enough of that lately and he simply couldn't imagine what he would do without her. _I might soon find out anyway_, he thought grimly.

"Fine," he spoke. "As your friend I'll respect your wish."

She nodded and was about to go in when his voice stopped her again.

"That said, I am also your boss and as such demand to know if and how the work of any of my employees is put into question," he said calmly. "So as your boss, I am going in there whether you like it or not."

They eyed each other for a while in a silent showdown, neither backing down. Then Stella conceded. She was well aware that he had only used the boss card to conceal his real reasons, but she had made her point and he had finally given her a legitimate and valid argument she could understand and accept, not some completely ungrounded and irrational fear that was demeaning to her.

She nodded her head.

**XxXxXxX**

Basil St. John could have stayed in Indonesia. He had come to like and respect the hospitable people, the exotic language and the fascinating culture. He felt good and safe there, something he rarely did outside of his lab. For some unfathomable reason, though, he chose to come back. Ever since he did, he had been struggling. Ever since he had learned of the conviction and death of one Jack Woodruff, a man he knew was innocent, he wasn't getting much sleep. It hit him hard because it was his fault. Now all he could do was honour him by doing the right thing. Telling what happened that night.

He could have stayed in Indonesia.

Then door opened breaking his train of thought and he knew he would soon find at least partial exoneration from the guilt weighing him down. Woodruff's death wasn't only his fault after all. It was also the detective's who failed to do her job right. The detective now standing before him and eyeing him with dismay mixed with confusion. The other person, the man standing behind her and flashing her concerned glances was probably her boss. It would stand to reason that he would want to know all about this. Detective Bonasera was facing serious consequences, both professional and personal. Still, he rarely saw supervisors looking at their subordinates like _that_.

"Mr. St. John," she spoke. "I'm detective Bonasera and this is detective Taylor. I hear you wanted to talk to me."

"You and you alone," he said and watched Taylor's face change. He had no time to step in, though, because Bonasera was already on him.

"You're not in a position to make any demands," she said through her teeth. "Either you tell us why you're accusing me of not doing my job properly or you'll find yourself in lock-up getting to know Big Ed in cell six better than you'd ever want to."

She was obviously the no-nonsense, tough type. Fiery even. Maybe too fiery. He could see the fleeting look of concern on Taylor's face as he looked warningly at Bonasera. She flashed him an annoyed look back and Basil could almost feel the underlying tension sparking between the two. It was clear that Taylor cared for her and she had no idea how much.

"So what's it gonna be?" she snapped, her jaw set.

Basil looked from her to Taylor and he knew that even though he wasn't happy with her conduct, he would still rather allow her to thrash him than put her in any kind of trouble. Taylor wasn't here to keep her in line, he was here to make sure she was fine.

"Fine," Basil conceded faced with the steel in Bonasera's eyes. He knew he wouldn't gain much by being defiant out of pure spite. Besides, he already felt sorry for her. After he said what he had to say, she would have lots of more serious trouble than a recalcitrant witness. "A year ago you investigated the murder of Gertrude Stokes-Woodruff. She was the heiress of Stokes Publishing, a philanthropist and a renowned member of the society."

"She was killed by her adoptive son," Stella remembered the case. It was a very loud affair, widely publicized and even the mayor himself got interested in it. There were lots of pressures to close the case fast. Stella had her own reasons to deal with it promptly as it turned out to be more personal than she would have wished.

It wasn't exactly a secret that Mrs. Stokes-Woodruff couldn't have children of her own so she had started a foundation and devoted her life to charity work for orphans. She was one of the prime donors of many orphanages in New York, St. Basil's being one of them.

"Jack Woodruff didn't kill her," Basil said calmly.

"We had evidence and witness reports that state otherwise," Stella shot back trying to keep her calm.

"All circumstantial from what I was able to learn," he replied . "You just needed a scape-goat to satisfy the mayor and quench the high society's bloodlust," he said in an accusatory tone. "And Jack Woodruff fit the profile. But he didn't do it."

Stella ground her teeth. That was exactly why she hated high-profile cases so much. There was always the added pressure from the chief, the press on your tail and a corrupt society waiting on your every mistake. And in the end, however hard you tried, people always accused the police of treating the wealthy better and more leniently anyway. Not in her book. Jack Woodruff was the best suspect they had and there was solid proof. She had done her job right and justice was served.

Basil St. John looked at her challengingly knowing full well he had hit a soft spot and she felt her fingers curl up against her palms.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because at the time of the murder he was in my car," he said. "I gave him a lift."

"Why didn't you come forward with this earlier?"

"The next day I got hit by a car and spent the next couple of months in a coma." He shook his head, not believing himself that such coincidences could happen. Yet they did.

"When I recuperated," he continued. "I headed straight for the Maluku Islands, which aren't the centre of the world exactly. News doesn't get there fast. All this time I had no idea that Jack Woodruff got convicted and died in jail two months ago. I returned last month. I was talking to a friend lately and the case surfaced. I put two and two together."

Stella just stared at him, the possibility that she had put an innocent man behind bars after all slowly sinking in.

"So you see, detective, I am sure," Basil enunciated. "And you would have been , too, if you had done your job and checked your facts properly. We wouldn't be having this meeting today and Jack Woodruff would be alive."

"Before you start accusing detective Bonasera of anything," Taylor, who was silent until now, suddenly stepped up. There were angry sparks flashing in his eyes. "I'd like to see some proof of what you're saying."

St. John shrugged. "I can of course provide my medical documentation as well as my expedition logs. Whatever you like."

"That still doesn't prove you aren't lying about giving John Woodruff a lift."

Though Mac was glaring at him, Basil seemed unruffled.

"I am telling the truth."

"You wouldn't object to an examination with a polygraph, then?"

"You can inject me with truth serum for all I care," he said forcefully. "You are scientists just like me, you believe in sound reasoning and logic. If what I was saying wasn't true, why would I come here? I'm an exemplary citizen, clear as crystal, and a respected scientist with a thriving career. Do you really think I'd endanger all that?"

"You wouldn't," Mac nodded. "Which begs the question what it is that you want to gain from this. Why are you really here, Mr. St. John?"

"Because it's the right thing to do," St. John lowered his head. "An innocent man was convicted and is now dead. He deserves justice."

"Forgive me," Mac snapped. "but it's kinda hard to believe that you're willing to put your whole life's work on the line just to 'do the right thing' without having some ulterior motive."

"You're a cynic, then, detective," Basil retorted. Then he sighed. "I feel partially responsible for this man's death. I've come here of my own free will and as hard to believe as it may be, I'm willing to face all the consequences. I want to make it right and the least I can do is clear his name posthumously. I owe it to him. And so do you, detective Bonasera," he said in an accusatory tone in Stella's direction.

Mac looked at Stella who had become strangely quiet listening to St. John's confession. He knew she prided herself on being the best at what she did. And she was. She didn't make mistakes. And when she did something out of the line, she was her own hardest judge and persecutor. He was afraid to even think what she would put herself through if she convinced herself she was somehow at fault here. Looking at her face, which had become a cold mask, he feared she had already begun crucifying herself.

"We'll need those files and a written statement," she spoke calmly although Mac could see the storm raging behind her eyes.

"Of course," St. John nodded.

"So start writing," she threw him a pen and a sheet of paper and stormed out of the room.

Mac nodded in the direction of the one-way mirror to let Flack know he was to step in and followed Stella. Seeing her disappear in the emergency stairwell, he quickened his pace.

"Stella!"

She stopped mid-step and whirred around to face him, her shoulders hunched and her features tense.

"Where are you going?" he asked softly.

"To get the Woodruff case files," she said curtly.

"Stell, I don't think..."

"This was my case, Mac!" she cut him off. "If I got something wrong I at least deserve a chance to make it right. And don't tell me I'm getting too emotional or that this is personal. I won't let you pull me off it."

"Stella...Stella!" he had to raise his voice to make her pause. He knew that when she got on a roll, there was no way of stopping her.

"What!"

"This is your case and I trust you with it," he said calmly and saw she was surprised.

"You...you do?"

"I'm not going to ram protocol down your throat or preach you about getting emotional because this is not that kind of a case," he continued watching the amazement on her face grow further. "I know you did everything right with what you had and I know you'll do it again with the _new evidence that you had no means of knowing about a year ago_,"he enunciated. "This is a difficult and delicate case and I need my best CSI on it. You." _And I know how much it means to you to make this right. _

"How can you be so sure?" she asked shakily.

He smiled at her. "Because I know you," he said touching the side of her face in a quick, undisguisedly affectionate gesture. His touch was tentative and the feel of his skin against hers was as light as a feather but it still sent electric sparks through her whole body.

She mustered a small, grateful smile. They stood like that for a while, Mac revelling in her closeness and Stella taking in the certainty and trust for her he held in his eyes and trying to convince herself that he was right about her. It felt so good and right having someone like Mac believe in her so much. It almost felt like they were in... Then reality caught up with her and she stepped away.

"Still, I got an innocent man convicted," she said bitterly.

"You don't know that."

"St. John's telling the truth, Mac," she said with finality. "He's right by saying that doesn't have any reason to lie. To the contrary, he's risking a lot. He's just a good man trying to make things right. And I can try to do the same thing. Repair the mistake I made," she added in a self-admonishing tone.

"Stell, I'm sure there was no mistake."

"You can't be sure and neither can I. That's why I'm going to get those files."

"I know how important this is to you, Stella, but those files can wait till tomorrow. It's almost nine and you've been here for forty eight hours straight. You didn't get any sleep and I can see you're running on fumes." Seeing her open her mouth to protest, he raised his hand. "Sleeping on the couch in your office doesn't count."

Although she wasn't in the mood, she had to crack a small smile.

"Look who's talking," she said under her breath.

"I'm serious, Stella. Go home and get some rest," he said decidedly. "Don will keep St. John in lock-up for you and I'll relegate the Grey case to Sheldon and Lindsay so you can take care of this one without any distractions. In return, promise me you'll go home now and at least try to get some rest."

Stella sighed. She knew he was right. She had long ago ran out of steam and all that was keeping her still upright was pure adrenaline. And she was already feeling it starting to wear off and the weariness stepping in. At times like these, it was comforting to know Mac had her back.

"Deal," she conceded grudgingly and turned to go up.

"And Stell...if you need anything, let me know, ok?"

She gave him a nod and continued her ascent.

**XxXxXxX**

Mac sat heavily down in his chair and ran tired hands over his face. Stella was hopefully already on her way home but he knew he would spend a sleepless night here, familiarizing himself with the Woodruff files. He had tons of paperwork to do and his own case to work on but he wanted to have Stella's back in this. When it came to Stella, everything else had to take the back seat.

Suddenly there was a knock on his glass doors. Mac looked up and furrowed his eyebrows recognizing his visitor.

"Hey, Mac," Aubrey said entering his office.

"Hey," he said surprised and made to stand up. "What are you...?"

"I was in the neighbourhood and thought you'd still be working," she smiled at him. "So I decided to pop in."

"I don't think..."

"I come with gifts," she cut him off waving a cardboard box she was holding and sitting herself in the seat opposite him. "I was passing this new pizza place on the way back from the ER and I thought I'd bring you a slice."

"Aubrey, I..." he didn't finish as Stella suddenly appeared in the entrance. He saw the surprise in her face.

"Oh, sorry, didn't know you had company," she mumbled. "Hi, Aubrey," she nodded in the other woman's direction. "I forgot my coat," she motioned at the garment she was holding in her hand. "And thought I'd say good night properly," she nodded stiffly in Mac's direction. "I won't interrupt you." She turned on her heel and headed for the stairs.

"Night," Aubrey said cheerfully and turned back to Mac. "So, Mac..."

Mac had eyes for Stella only, though. He circled his desk and followed her into the corridor. He looked as her silhouette disappeared on the stairs wondering, feeling, _knowing_ he should go after her.

tbc.

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**A/N: So, how was this? Do let me know in a review:) You think Mac will go after Stella? Is Basil telling the truth? How will Stella deal with it? This and lots more in the next chapter:)**

**A/N2: 'Step By Step' will update next:) **


	3. In The Eye Of The Storm

**Stalemate**

**Summary: **Stella gets a lucrative and prestigious offer to work in the FBI Crime Lab in Virginia just as a gruesome cold case unravels before the CSIs. What will she decide? Will Mac have a say in it? Will he want to? What will the case bring them? SM/team post-s.6

**Disclaimer:**I don't own anything. This is only a fan fiction story. CSI:NY and all the characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker and CBS. I'm just a fangirl who can't resist playing with their wonderful creations:-)

**A/N: **Hey guys! I know this update is WAY overdue. I hope you can forgive me but RL has like swallowed me up _whole_ these last couple of months...I hope you haven't lost interest in this story and still want to read it! I've got lots planned here, the updates will be faster, I promise, but in the end, it's all up to you – so let me know!

* * *

**Chapter 3 – In The Eye Of The Storm**

_Mac had eyes for Stella only, though. He circled his desk and followed her into the corridor. He looked as her silhouette disappeared on the stairs wondering, feeling, knowing he should go after her._

Deep down Mac knew he never was the right man for Stella. He was damaged and carried far too much baggage from all his past relationships. He had been wounded, burned and scarred far more than any person ever should be. His life had thrown enough tragedy at him to break even the strongest of men. If he had to face any more, he feared he wouldn't be able to pick himself up ever again.

Stella had sustained her own share of damage, both as a child and as an adult woman. His fists still curled and his teeth clenched at the very memory of Stella's beaten, unconscious body on her apartment floor. It was good she had put three bullets in Frankie Mala herself because if he'd managed to get his hands on him...Then there was Drew, who maybe didn't inflict any physical damage but further exacerbated Stella's mental wounds and only reinforced her trust and commitment issues. He knew she saw someone from time to time after that but it never went beyond a couple of noncommittal dates. She was alone.

To change that, she needed someone whole and complete, someone on whom life hadn't left such an indelible, deep stamp. Someone who could make her laugh, forget about work and bring pure, unconfined joy into her life. As much as he wanted, he feared he wasn't that man. He would do anything for her but that wouldn't be much. Stella deserved a break from all the drama and angst. His second name _was_ angst, Mac sometimes thought. She deserved a fresh start without her past bringing her down. She deserved the kind of happy, crazy, unrestrained love he felt he no longer had in him to give. It broke his heart but he was a realist and he knew himself.

He looked at doorway where she'd disappeared but a moment ago.

**XxXxXxX**

In all honesty, she shouldn't have expected anything else. Aubrey sitting comfortably in Mac's office seemed like the perfect, ironic curve ball her life had thrown in her direction to end this horrible year and seal her decision.

And the year had begun so good.

She had shared real closeness and fun with Mac this year and he seemed somehow changed. He was still the stoical, stubborn, hard-ass cop she knew but he was also more open and seemed to be actually enjoying life for a change. So much so that she was tempted to think that maybe indeed there was something more he felt for her. So much so that she was even tempted to indulge herself and finally admit her feelings for him for the first time. Feelings she had kept bottled up so deep inside that they had become repressed and scrunched like a pearl in its shell, never to see the daylight and well hidden in the most desolate depths of her heart.

Her love for Mac was like that unrelenting grain of sand that was the core of every pearl. It had pervaded through her tough protective shell to safely settle in her heart, which in turn created layer upon layer of protective barriers to encase it within and thus get rid of the intruder like an oyster would. Instead of getting rid of the irritant, though, it unknowingly turned it into one of the most beautiful, rarest gems nature could create.

She managed to hide it away from the world and from Mac. Life just went on like it always had. She was content with simply being around him every day, looking out for him and being the only woman in his life, even if only as a friend. She had convinced herself that it was enough. Seeing him close by and single was all that she wished for, even though she knew it was selfish. But when it came to Mac, she found she didn't want to share. Having him as her best friend was good enough and maybe some day, some beautiful, happy day he would love her back.

In the mean time, though, the pearl grew until it took up all the space in her heart that she had to give. Thus, she remained alone, carrying Mac and no one but him in her heart all the time. It was enough for her. She didn't need anyone else.

Then Mac met Aubrey. A complete stranger met by pure coincidence became more important than her, a friend for more than a decade, in a matter days. It was suddenly Aubrey who was bringing him coffee, Aubrey who was taking up his free time and most importantly, Aubrey who seemed to be taking that special place in _his_ heart.

With the strength of a sledge hammer hitting her straight in the head, it made her realize that 'best friend' _wasn't_ enough. She would always come second before any of Mac's girlfriends. And she knew she wasn't able to bear that.

Peyton had been a totally different matter. Stella saw that at that moment in his life Mac needed someone outgoing, someone who would be the aggressor in the relationship and pursue him. He needed it to be drawn out of the shell he had built in the wake of Claire's death. He chose Dr. Driscoll for that. Stella convinced herself she understood and quashed the twinges of jealousy at the very thought of Mac with another woman. She told herself she would wait. She had been waiting three years.

But with Aubrey, Mac was a man at a totally different stage of life. He was whole again, more open and his heart was back in the right place. So any relationship he undertook could be the one.

While it hurt that he hadn't chosen her _again_, she was grateful to Aubrey in a way. She had thrown a bucket of cold water over her head, making her realize that she was living a half-life. She had completely devoted a part of herself to a man who wasn't even _aware_ of it. It wasn't entirely his fault but it was her fault for sticking so long with it and barring her heart from anything but him. Now she had a chance to break herself free. Life was offering her a chance to piece herself back together and hopefully regain what she had lost, in peace and away from Mac and New York.

But first she owed it to Jack Woodruff and his family to catch his mother's killer and exonerate him. Basil St. John was right.

She stood on the sidewalk before the Police Plaza, and felt a shiver run through her body. It was September and nights were starting to get chilly. Theoretically, she was standing there because she wanted to get a cab but she got so engulfed in her thoughts that she just stood there staring down at the tips of her shoes like they were the eighth wonder of the world. She had no idea how long she'd been standing there like this. She only got out of her head when she heard a gentle voice behind her.

He went after her. She didn't expect him to.

"Stella."

She slowly turned around, plastering a neutral expression onto her face.

Mac came to stand before her and found himself in one of the rare moments when he was at a loss for words.

Her face was gently illuminated by the streetlamps, their warm light softening her features and bringing out the incredible chartreuse hue in her eyes. For a moment she seemed like a statue of a Greek goddess, chiselled out of the most beautiful marble by one of the Renaissance masters, the only ones who could render such perfect beauty as was now standing before his very eyes. There was one thing that reminded him she was mortal, though. Greek deities didn't feel sorrow or pain or regret, all of which he spotted in her glance and taut stance.

In the sad image that Stella now seemed to him, Mac saw a glint of hope. His reasoning suddenly seemed moot. However hard he tried to convince himself he wasn't good for her, wasn't what she needed or deserved, he still couldn't silence that relentless voice in the back of his head that told him it didn't matter. It wasn't about what he _thought_. It was about what he _felt_. Love didn't choose, didn't heed possible complications or ramifications it could cause and it certainly wasn't rational. It just happened and when it did, there was nothing you could do about it. You could suppress it, run away from it, tell yourself it was just a temporary infatuation but deep down you always knew you were just lying to yourself.

He was done lying.

It didn't matter if he got his heart broken or got burned again because it was Stella. She was worth it, worth taking every imaginable risk and so much more.

"There's something I have to tell you," he said after what seemed like a small eternity. His blue eyes were unreadable. She had never seen such an expression on his face. There were so many conflicting emotions written all over it and she could read none. He always kept things to himself but this was different. Deeper.

He decided to go for it. He had wasted enough time already. Stella wasn't making this any easier for him, though. The immobile mask her face had frozen into didn't exactly encourage deep-felt confessions so he decided to go slightly indirectly about this. He still wasn't sure if she reciprocated his feelings.

"It concerns a woman," he ploughed on. "The woman in my life," he added hoping she would remember the words she herself had spoken to him a year ago.

On another day, in another frame of mind, Mac would have been right and Stella would catch the allusion and the tenderness in his voice. But right now her thoughts and mind were filled with dark thoughts and the images of Aubrey sitting in Mac's office like she belonged there. So she just stared at him, nothing of what he was saying really getting through to her. _God, he's going to ask me for some romantic advice concerning Aubrey_, she thought frantically._ If he does, I'll throw up._

"I wanted to know if I told her I love her, would she..."

A cold chill ran down her spine as her world finally crumbled to the very ground, last vestiges of hope dying inside. _He loves Aubrey,_ she thought, her heart turning into an icicle inside her chest. She knew she wouldn't be able to bear hearing a word more from him so she did the only thing that came to her mind. Offense is the best defence.

"I'm leaving New York to work for the FBI," she shot before he had a chance to finish.

Just as she expected, he fell silent. She didn't expect that look in his eyes, though. First there was utter surprise and then it was like something shattered behind his eyes. And then it felt like something fell to pieces within her, too. She had just said it aloud. She had just made the decision. The feeling of loss and sorrow that swept through her in an overpowering wave seemed to be reflected in his eyes.

But then it was gone, the shatters were back up in his eyes and his expression was collected again. He gave her a small nod. "That was a quick decision," he said dryly.

It was all he could utter at that moment. Not only did she clearly bring him to understand she didn't want any confessions from him but she hit him with the most powerful weapon in her arsenal to prove that point.

"I...," she mumbled, suddenly feeling something was very wrong and she might have misinterpreted his earlier intentions. "You...don't seem surprised."

"Oh, I am, believe me," he said through gritted teeth, trying to keep his disappointment and anger at bay. "Not by the offer, no one deserves such a professional honour as much as you," his voice slightly softened. "But by the way you choose to tell me this, Stella."

_Oh God, what have I done?_ She thought frantically, the disappointment and sadness in his voice cutting into her like knives. "Mac, I..."

"You will of course get my recommendation and full support and I will talk to Sinclair to do the same," he continued without inflection as if she hadn't spoken, his jaw set and his eyes steely. "But I expect you to finish your ongoing cases and hand me a written letter of resignation by the end of the month."

His matter-of-fact tone and coldness in his usually warm eyes made her want to shake him. Did he really feel nothing other than the need to tell her of the formalities she had to tackle? Why wasn't he even trying to stop her? Did she really mean so little to him that he didn't even stoop to ask her why she was doing this? But she knew him better than this. She knew what he was doing. Of course he cared but she had rendered him defenceless by dropping the bomb on him. She was so afraid of getting hurt by him that in her insecurity and pain, she had lashed out first and hurt him instead. And he was doing all he knew to do to shield himself from the pain – he was withdrawing from her.

She wanted to apologize and explain, her hand already reaching out to his face, but the coldness in his glance left her rooted to the spot. Her hand fell to her side listlessly.

"I won't keep you any longer," he said stiffly and turned on his heel, quickly climbing the stairs back to the building.

She didn't follow him. She felt she had no right to anymore, not after what she had said and done.

**XxXxXxX**

He knew escaping wasn't a good option but it was all he could do. He feared he would say something he would later regret so he just up and left. He avoided his office knowing Aubrey was probably still there. Instead, he chose the highest floor. He needed some air and he needed to clear his head.

He propped his arms on the ledge of the roof and looked out onto Manhattan, the cold gusts of wind taking his breath away for a moment. He shut his eyes and willed the pain away, focusing solely on the feeling of autumn's cold fingers caressing his face and playing with his hair.

With a sigh he realized he couldn't really hold her reaction against her. He had acted recklessly and now saw he couldn't have chosen a worst moment. He wasn't blind, he knew how Stella felt about Aubrey and seeing her in his office obviously ticked her off. When he added how on edge she was about the Woodruff case and the FBI offer, he was surprised how well she held herself together. And then he added the proverbial last straw. She didn't need this kind of drama right now. He wanted more but the road leading there was tortuous and fraught with so many unknowns that he doubted either of them was ready for it considering where they were now. Above all, they were both afraid, mostly of destroying the solid friendship between them. They were too entrenched in each other's lives to feel comfortable with the idea of things between them just falling to dust. Their kind of deep friendship was a lot to sacrifice.

That was why he had suppressed all the feelings he had for her, hoping they would simply go away. He ignored those feelings, chalking them off to their long-running friendship and the fact she was the closest person he had. And apparently, friends was all they were ever going to be. Her reaction confirmed his previous reservations. He felt a nondescript pinge in his heart remembering the look in her eyes as he was about to tell her how he felt about her – fear verging on panic and sadness so palpable he could almost touch it. She clearly didn't want any confessions from him. Her reaction was clear – she didn't love him but didn't want to lose his friendship. He didn't want to lose her either just because he had recklessly and incomprehensibly fallen in love with her. It wasn't her fault and he wouldn't let her suffer because of his romantic delusions. She was his best friend.

All he had to do now was convince himself it was enough.

And then as always his phone brought him back to reality. He flipped it open.

**XxXxXxX**

Sheldon just ended his conversation with the detective on call when Mac pulled up with a screech in his Avalanche. When he got out, Hawkes instantly saw there was something wrong with him. He couldn't put his finger on it but it was like someone had turned the lights off. It was the same Mac as always but there was something missing.

"You okay, Mac?" he asked tentatively knowing full well how guarded his boss was about his private sphere and emotions. They had lived together for two months and Hawkes was still none the wiser about him. That didn't change the fact that he was his friend. So while he may not know what Mac hid, he knew he hid something.

As if Mac could read in his thoughts, he gave him a tight smile.

"Fine," he nodded. "You?"

Sheldon just sighed. It was worth a shot.

"As fine as I can be being called from my bed in the middle of the night," he said.

"What have we been called to, Sheldon?" Mac asked. "Who's our vic?"

"Scarlett Norton, 26, single, owner of a zoological store a couple blocks from here. She was a regular here."

Mac nodded in acknowledgement. "Who called it in?"

"The life-guard on duty, Jonas Wiley," Sheldon reported leading the way to the scene. "He pulled her out of the pool and tried administering CPR. No use, as you can see for yourself," he motioned at the bluish body lying at the side of the pool.

Mac ducked under the police tape cutting the scene off from the rest of the space. He deposited his kit in a reachable distance and took his pen-light out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Sheldon followed him, taking in the immediate premises around the body while Mac crouched near the victim and looked down at her ghastly immobile face with a frown. She was young, tall and lithe and when you added the wet hair plastered to her face and the bluish tint of her skin, she almost looked like a water nymph. Only nymphs weren't usually found drowned in pools in downtown NY. To add to the oddity, Scarlett Norton was wearing street clothes, not a swimming suit, which suggested this was a secondary crime scene.

"No abrasions on her face, throat or hands," Mac noted upon a closer scrutiny of the body, which had already taken a cyanotic tint to it.

"And no visible signs of struggle anywhere," Sheldon added sweeping the immediate surroundings with a searching gaze.

"So she wasn't forced into or under water," Mac concluded. "Do we know if someone was with her?"

"She was alone," Hawkes sighed. "The place was pretty much deserted, too. There were a couple of kids diving on the other lane but nowhere near her and that's all. They didn't see anyone apart from our vic."

"It would stand to reason," Mac nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's always empty here at this time of the night. And there are no surveillance cameras. Someone knew what they were doing."

Sheldon flashed him a questioning look and Mac cracked a small smile.

"I come here every other evening to swim," he explained but Hawkes only raised an eyebrow at that and Mac could guess that he was wondering who the heck would come to swim at this time of night. "It's convenient." Mac shrugged.

"I doubt you'll be coming here in the future," Hawkes quipped. "Especially at midnight."

Mac shot him a sideways look. Then his gaze wandered over to the still surface of the pool. He stood up and flashed his pen-light over the surface. As he came to the very edge, he spotted a dark object floating on the waves. Its shape was bent by water but Mac could just make it out.

"There's something here," he observed out loud reaching for the pool rake lying nearby.

As he was fishing the item out, Sheldon came close to have a look at his found. Mac took the object out of the rake and they both inspected it with interest.

"A feather?" Hawkes looked at Mac with furrowed eyebrows.

"Possibly from a guinea fowl but the spots here-" he gently touched the markings along the feather's rachis. "-are unusual for any species found in America." He handed the evidence to Sheldon, who was long past getting amazed at what kind of strange tidbit information his boss's bottomless memory held. And this was coming from him, who prided himself on his encyclopaedical knowledge.

"Bag it," Mac instructed. "I'm going to talk to the life-guard. You do a full sweep here. You might have to get wet," he added indicating the still surface of the pool.

"I'll dive into it," Sheldon said wryly.

**XxXxXxX**

Stella huffed looking at the stack of Woodruff case files she still had to go over. She was the lead on it so she was familiar with the general outline but her task now was to find any inconsistencies or errors they..._she _had made. She had told Mac once she never made mistakes on the job but now she wasn't so sure anymore. If she overlooked something so huge as the innocence of their prime suspect...

Her gaze wandered to the clock on her desk. It was six in the morning and the lab was almost completely deserted, for which she was immensely glad. No one bothered her and despite the way they had parted, Mac hadn't forgotten and relieved her of all her other duties so she only had the Woodruff case to work on.

After the last interaction with Mac she went home but she didn't get a wink of sleep. She tossed and turned, Mac's steely gaze and hurt expression imprinted on the inside of her eyelids, burning her with a fire of remorse and regret.

It was all so wrong. How could everything get so complicated in a matter of hours? The FBI offer, the sudden appearance of Basil St. James putting her integrity and professionalism in question, and then Mac...and her reckless decision born out of fear of losing him, which ironically seemed to have lost him to her even faster. In a matter of seconds she decided that to shield her heart she would let him down first before he let her down.

Her mind was still in chaos about his reaction, though. He was obviously hurt and he had every right to but there was something else. She had interrupted him when he was about to tell her something important – she was so sure it would be about Aubrey but she wasn't anymore. In fact, it was as if he meant..._her_? Could it really be?

The next question was, if that was the case, was she ready? She couldn't deny her love for him but was it enough? Could she handle it? Them together would have been a long term thing, not some quick fling, and her fear had stemmed from the fear that they could both break. They knew way too much about each other to make it simple. It would be messy and complicated and that was what terrified Stella. What terrified her even more, though, was never having the chance to find out.

A panic that she had done just that and something irreversible had happened overcame her in a paralyzing wave. She hid her face in her hands.

**XxXxXxX**

It was ten in the morning and Mac was just back from a meeting with the DA that had dragged on for more than two hours. For the last ninety minutes of the said meeting Mac had to hold himself back from taking the Criminal Code lying on the edge of the DA's desk and hitting him with it. He was yet another in a string of publicity hungry politicos with illusions of grandeur. Just what he needed to start this day with. He was tired and on edge as it was without pencil-pushing bureaucrats trying to make him into their lapdog. Again.

With a shake of his head, he pushed his way into the morgue and headed straight for Sid, who was already waiting for him.

"Hi, Mac," the ME greeted him with a smile but Mac only nodded in return, his face grim. "I see someone's in a good mood," Sid added arching an eyebrow at him.

"What gave me away?" Mac asked wryly.

"You ever see Arnold Schwarzenegger in the Terminator movies? You have the same expression. Only without the dreadful accent," Sid added as an afterthought.

"All right, Sid. I get the point," Mac huffed. Trust Sid to brighten his day by comparing him to a killer robot from the distant future. "What have you got for me?"

The ME allowed himself a dramatic sigh that Mac wasn't going to bite before he started with his autopsy results. Mac felt his lips twitch upwards.

"Cause of death: asphyxiation by drowning," Sid announced.

Mac frowned stepping up to the autopsy table.

"I gather that wasn't what you were expecting?"

Mac shook his head, giving the inquisitive ME a sideways glance. "Yes and no. She was in the pool but we didn't find any signs of a struggle on her at the scene."

"Neither did I," Sid said. "No bruises or finger impressions on her neck or occiput that would indicate any kind of violence such as being held under water."

"Yet she didn't drown on her own," Mac sighed. "You're sure she was alive at the time of submersion?"

"Yup," Sid clicked his glasses onto his nose and came up to the vic's head. He indicated her mouth. "There was foam in her airways and her lungs were hyperinflated. She was definitely struggling for air."

Mac looked at Scarlett Norton's immobile face in frustration.

"Anything else, Sid?"

"No aces up my sleeve this time, Mac, sorry," the ME sighed. "She was young and completely healthy."

"How about her blood and tox screen?"

"Still waiting for it. Though by the looks of it, I'd suggest you look for poison."

"Maybe that will tell us something more," Mac looked at the body with a frown. "Let me know the instant you have the test results," he ordered.

He got onto the elevator deciding it was high time he made an appearance at the lab and in his office. His heart started beating faster with each floor up and when the doors opened on the 35th, his eyes immediately wandered over to Stella's office. She wasn't in.

Shaking his head, he made for his office. As soon as he got in, he saw a stack of mail and a couple of reports waiting for him but the one thing that caught his attention was a yellow post-it on his computer monitor. He would recognize that handwriting anywhere and his heart started beating faster again.

_Mac, I'm sorry for earlier. We've got to talk. Meet me for lunch __outside at one? It's on me. S. _

He involuntarily smiled, realizing she probably felt as bad about all this as he did. He was about to text her when he heard a knock on the door. He nodded Flack in with a light frown.

"Hi, Mac. Got a sec?" he asked somewhat uneasily.

Mac could see the unsure look on Don's face and was getting the impression that whatever this was about, it was something serious. Flack fidgeted with his hands for a while before he looked up at Mac.

"Sure," he replied warily. "What's going on, Don?"

"It's about the Woodruff case."

Mac nodded. "Ok. What about it?"

"I've been going over some files from the original investigation and I had another chat with our entomologist."

"And...?"

Don cleared his throat.

"Mac, Stella's like a sister to me and I'm worried about all this. I mean, you're sure it's a good idea to give this case up to her? I know she can handle herself but with everything that's been going on, won't it be too much? The Marina Garito case and then Danny and Lindsay hit her really hard."

"The thought crossed my mind, too," Mac sighed, leaning against his desk next to Don. "But the alternative would be even worse," he rubbed his nape in an effort to massage the taut muscles there.

Flack remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Stella grew up in a world of pain and abuse," Mac began softly. "She was alone and when she wasn't, she was shipped from one bad foster family to another. She always had to be strong and responsible."

Don nodded seriously.

"It left her with that constant fear that if she showed any weakness or vulnerability, everything would fall apart. _She_ would fall apart," he shook his head angrily and turned away from Don. He wasn't speaking to him anymore, it was more like he was finally realizing a deep truth about Stella and what made her the way she was.

It was infuriating to realize what anguish and hardship Stella had to endure in her life, none of which she deserved. He wasn't exactly sure what he was angry at. The system? The world? God? All he knew was he would give his life to make it up to her somehow.

He took a deep breath and continued. "Her job is the one place she feels she can control things and keep them together. It's the place where she feels safe. So if I took it away from her, I wouldn't be taking away just another case, I would be taking away the source of her strength."

Flack looked at Mac feeling his heart constrict. There was so much emotion and depth in Mac's voice, such a profound understanding and care for Stella underlining his words that Don felt singled out to be able to witness such a moment from Mac. He wondered if Mac realized how deeply in love with Stella he was.

Or if he knew Don was still here, for that matter. As if reading his thoughts, Mac turned back to him.

"So I'm going to leave this case with Stella," he said. "I trust her and I know she'll do the right thing, whatever the consequences." Mac raised his hand seeing Don wanted to say something. "That all said, I'm also concerned for her. She doesn't show it, I know, but she had a really tough year. Her job is everything to her and to have this explode into her face like this may be too much. That's why I'm taking you off all your other cases. The Woodruff case is your priority right now. I want you to keep an eye on Stella."

Don frowned, "No problem...but wouldn't it be better if _you_ worked this with her?"

Mac cleared his throat. "I doubt she'd want me near now," he said not looking him in the eye.

Flack furrowed his brow. "What? Why?"

"She...has some issues she has to deal with and I might be a hindrance."

"You're being awfully unspecific, Mac."

"I know," he replied unfazed. "You up for this?"

"I am."

tbc.

* * *

So, that's it for now, guys! Hope you liked it! I'm nervous about this so please take a second or two to tell me what you think! Reviews get _you _brownie points and get _me _to write faster;)


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